In grief the fair face seems– What means those sudden gleams? Our antique pride from dreams Starts up, and beams Its conquering glance,– To make our sad hearts dance, And wake in woods hushed long The wild bird’s song. Angel of Day! Our Hope, Love, Stay, Thy countenance Lights land and sea Eternally, Thy name is France Or Verity.

Fair angel in thy glass When vile things move or pass, Clouds in the skies amass; Terrible, alas! Thy stern commands are then: “Form your battalions, men, The flag display!” And all obey. Angel of might Sent kings to smite, The words in dark skies glance, “Mene, Mene,” hiss Bolts that never miss! Thy name is France, Or Nemesis.

As halcyons in May, O nations, in his ray Float and bask for aye, Nor know decay! One arm upraised to heaven Seals the past forgiven; One holds a sword To quell hell’s horde, Angel of God! Thy wings stretch broad As heaven’s expanse! To shield and free Humanity! Thy name is France, Or Liberty!